


A Friend in My Back Pocket

by Nizhoni93



Series: The Every Day Antics of SKAM's Epic Boy Squad [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway), SKAM (TV) RPF
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Angst and Feels, Best Friends, Boy Squad, Bromance, Brotherhood, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Codependency, Epic Friendship, Even Bech Næsheim Loves Isak Valtersen, Even just wants what's best, F/M, Fights, Fluff and Humor, Grumpy Isak, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, House Party, Humor, Isak Valtersen Loves Even Bech Næsheim, Isak and Jonas centric, Isak is sad, Jealous Isak Valtersen, Jonas Noah Vasquez is a Good Friend, Jonas will always have Isak's back, Love, M/M, Making Up, Minor Girl Squad, POV Isak Valtersen, Protective Jonas Noah Vasquez, Silly Rumours, Soft Isak Valtersen, Stubborn Isak Valtersen, Teenage Drama, friends being idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 07:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nizhoni93/pseuds/Nizhoni93
Summary: Isak thinks that's the whole problem here, because Jonas is like the crown gold standard of best friends. It's like, if they were video game characters, Jonas would be the hero tearing through zombies left and right, fighting against all odds to rescue Isak. And ja, Isak would undoubtedly do the same for him, but the difference is Isak's that infuriating scientist character who somehow fucked up an experiment and started the whole apocalypse in the first place.He doesn't even consider himself on the same plane as Jonas. He almost wishes Jonas felt the same way, because sometimes when he puts too much faith in Isak's ability to not let him down, that's when Isak does screw up and it's a double whammy.***OR Isak and Jonas get into a heated fight at school, and everyone is building their own rumours about what the fight was about. Isak is in a miserable state of denial, seeking advice where he can but refusing to accept some harsh truths. He spends the day reflecting on his friendship with Jonas, leading to a pivotal moment at a house party where the true measure of their bond is tested.





	A Friend in My Back Pocket

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! Thank you for showing in interest in this story, and I really hope you'll enjoy reading because I'm so proud to be sharing it with you. I'd like to point out that this will be the first instalment of a new series I'm creating called, "The Every Day Antics of SKAM's Epic Boy Squad" which will include stories focused primarily on the boys squad and what they get up to on a regular basis. With that said, I'm doing something I've never done before, and that's a call for prompts! If you like this story, and have ideas for what you'd like to see these boys get up to, please leave your prompt in the comments and I'll try writing what I can! I'd love to write from each boy's perspective at least once. 
> 
> This story will be Isak and Jonas centric, because I can't get enough of them. So I hope that's your thing! I mean, you probably wouldn't have clicked if it wasn't ;-P It's set during S4 but before all of Sana's drama really kicks in. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It should come as no surprise to Isak, that Magnus is undoubtedly having an existential crisis over this. He's not great in social conflicts _(even when he's just a reluctant third-party observer)_, neurotic at the best of times, and the very notion that his best friends are at odds is something that is so plainly unfathomable to him. He's shaken to his core.

Magnus is penetrating his soul with that stare. He rests his elbows on his knees, chin buttressed under his knuckles, exuding this whole wide-eyed innocence of a child look perfectly. It's like he's half expecting Isak to start parenting his fears to rest. Isak's unintentionally murdered just about every goldfish he's ever owned since the ripe age of eight. To say he's not the nurturing type is pretty much a given, despite what Mags might be hoping for.

He's not even the inspirit of their squad.

That's Jonas' role.

But Jonas isn't here _and_ _who's fault is that? S_o Isak is forced to soldier on, flattening his expression whilst Magnus sits at the edge of his seat and starts biting his nails all twitchily, right at Isak. _God_, it's so fucking gross when he does that.

"If you'd just apologize to Jonas, he'd forgive you and everything'd be back to normal."

"Ja hard pass on that one." Isak falls back into his seat, his throne of contempt, "S'not a boo boo Mags. I can't simply slap a band aid on this and hope it just goes away."

"You realize he's not even joining us for lunch today, right? It's a slippery slope man..."

Magnus is like a happy parrot, just adopting repetitive phrases as his own. Literally, he heard a cop say this once in health class, "_marijuana is gateway drug. You know what a gateway drug is? It's a slippery slope to brain damage is what it is..." _and now Isak is hearing this shit at the mother fucking lunch table is what it is.

"...today it's just lunch but tomorrow he's chilling with a new squad. We can't take that kind of blow. Jonas is, he's the fucking glue! What's a squad without the glue?"

_The glue? _Okay, so this one is just 100% pure, finely-aged Magnus Fossbakken, and definitely solid proof he's been spending too much time pinning DIY crafts with Vilde on Pinterest.

"So what's that make Isak then?" Mahdi pipes up from his place to Isak's left. He forks around his plate for a while, before happily downing a syrupy bite of waffle.

Maybe he_ should_ be above all this natter over the vital role he plays in their squad and how it's somehow akin to a stupid inanimate object. But when it comes down to it, Isak's still just a kid isn't he? Which means he's not entirely made of stone. Beneath all those sedimentary layers, he's kind of genuinely curious as to what Magnus comes up with. Isak raises a brow at his friend, half-expecting something so unbelievably droll like, '_Oh Isak's a pipe cleaner, he's all bent out of shape._' instead he gets, "the glitter."

_Wait what?_

"I get it," Mahdi snickers, "fucking just sticks to the glue and is damn impossible to get rid of no matter how hard you try and scrape that shit off."

Isak chuckles mirthlessly, levelling Mahdi with a prickly glare, "Funny." If he were a fruit Isak'd be a pear and he doesn't give a damn who gives a damn.

Magnus furrows his brows, like this is so obvious, "No…because he's—

"Don't fucking say it—

"…gay."

"Oh fuck you man!"

_Really?_ That's the best Magnus could do? Isak feels negated. Labelled. _He doesn't even like glitter!_

That sort of thing—it's was more Eskild's forte.

_Well_...there was that one occasion a few months back when Even found some of Sonya's old makeup in his desk drawer at his parents place. He thought it'd be fun idea to shadow Isak's lids in glittery gold, and he wasn't entirely wrong. The whole time Even did his makeup they'd kept giggling and Isak was maybe sneezing a lot but it wasn't his fault because that stuff was as dusty as the damn sands of Sahara.

Isak really liked the finished product—_God Eskild would have a field day if he knew Isak were admitting that—_but he couldn't deny the way the gold shadow somehow intensified the blue flecks in his green eyes, like stones at the foot of a limpid pond. He also couldn't blame Even for inevitably losing his shit over the makeover.

That's between them though. Well, them and Even's bunk bed. And maybe but hopefully not Even's sleeping parents that were in the next room.

_Look_, what Isak does in his private time with his insanely hot boyfriend is his own damn business and doesn't concern anyone but Isak and his insanely hot boyfriend and it certainly doesn't mean he's down with being labelled as anyone's designated gay bestie!

_The fucking glitter!_ He should just disown Mags now for being a jackass and the absolute jackassery of that comment.

Magnus carries on seemingly unfazed or unaware he's once again crossed that thin like between 'things straight guys should and shouldn't say to gay guys ever'. He just keeps breathing down Isak's neck about this. Indelible, like a fuzz stuck on Velcro. "So you're not even going to try and make things right with him?"

"Nai."

"Jesus, why're you so stubborn?"

"It's a proud forte of mine. You really haven't noticed before?"

Magnus huffs and nabs another french fry off _Isak's _plate— he's an ever loyal follower of the dogma, "_what's mine is mine and what's yours is also mine.'_ He jabs the fry into the ketchup cup on Isak's tray, waggles it around till is good and gooey and his fingertips are all red smeared.

When he bites into it, it's straight down the middle crinkle with a pout, looking like his mom just sequestered his Xbox. Isak watches Magnus chew the steaming, fluffy innards between his teeth sulkily.

The whole display reminds him of that Seth Rogan film he and Even watched on Netflix last week — _Sausage Party_.

It's where supermarket foods talk and have feeling and wage war against their human overlords. If Isak were a movie critic, he'd say it was a solid 7/10. Pretty hysterical, and the whole beware of organized religion commentary was brilliant. And Isak thinks if Magnus keeps on stealing his goddamn fries, he'll happily sacrifice his friend over to the groceries' rebellion.

"I've told you cat hooker—" he slides his tray to his left, next to Mahdi. Just out of Magnus' reach. Now he's got no shot at double dipping the poor dismembered fry buddy. "Keep your paws off my food, and I'm not apologizing. Why does everyone assume I'm the one at fault here?"

Mahdi is grinning. Always fucking ginning. He's entirely overbite and waffle as he answers, "Uhh because it is you're fault. You're the one who didn't finish the assignment."

Isak grouses. _Mahdi has no clue_. He keeps picking sesame seeds off the top of his burger bun.

He hasn't taken a bite. Mostly because he just wants to eat his lunch in peace. Not be accosted in the cafeteria by Magnus and Mahdi, or keep being reminded over and over again about of his fight with Jonas.

But it seems no matter how hard he keeps trying to avoid the situation, it just keeps coming back to him. A boomerang that won't let up. He figures at this point, he might as well wallow in it.

Isak remembers last night, back to when he and Jonas were at the library, working through a chemistry lab they'd been partnered on. Their lab was a ten-page paper, rooted in the rates of chemical reactions. They'd been given a take home chemistry kit with different solvents and effecting test factors to complete the experiment at home, and their observations were meant to be logged in a notebook provided by their teacher and turned in, along with the report the next morning.

It was going fine for the most part, smoothly but kind of tedious.

_If there's such a thing as a non-tedious science experiment then sign Isak up to be the first human test subject._

They took turns being scientist and scribe, one person working the kit the other making notes. There was an ease that came with being Jonas' partner. It wasn't just because they're best friends (_or were, because he's definitely not apologizing_). Or because they've literally been forced into it since childhood. Being the only two kids with 'V' last names has pretty much guaranteed they'd be stuck with each other till university.

_Side note: Jonas refuses to admit he's a cog to the whole school board regime._

_..._

_"You know, I don't accept that. We'd have been friends anyway, I know we would have."_

"_Oh ja? Because the scrawny blond kid with a 'Fantorangen' t-shirt would have been prime friendship material for wild little Mowgli and his plastic skate board."_

"_Come on dude, my hair wasn't that shaggy back then. And damn I forgot about Fantorangen. That puppet was freaky."_

'_Yeah, I'm not sure what NRK were thinking when they focussed a whole program around it."_

"_What was it even supposed to be anyway?"_

"_I don't know, like an elephant, orangutan hybrid or some shit."_

"_Stuff of nightmares."_

"_And that's my point, my outfit alone would have sent you running the other way and fast."_

"_Okay maybe on that first day ja, but it's not like you were wearing that all the time. You were a cool kid, at least I thought so."_

_Isak choked on his kabab. "Cool? I was the only first grader in our school with a fucking protractor in his pencil case."_

_"Ja, but it's not like I noticed that. You were really good at blocks and building and stuff. You knew a ton about trees and animals and history and you'd point out shit like, 'did you know Norway is home to the original Vikings,' and then we'd play Vikings, remember? Because you had all the best ideas about what was fun." Jonas smirked at him, "I had a great sense of character as a kid, and I'd have noticed you eventually."_

_Isak blushed, flattered and then embarrassingly honest, "I noticed things too. Right away, I noticed you."_

"_Really? What stood out?"_

"_Your fingernails. They were always muddy."_

_Jonas squawked, "Wow thanks—"_

"_No, but that's not a bad thing though!" Isak said, waggling his fork and jabbing the air to drive home his point. "My fingernails were always clean. My clothes were always ironed. My socks always hiked up. But you…I'd never seen a kid as…gross as you."_

"_Still trying to understand when this becomes a compliment about me?"_

"_Even then you were oppressing the system. You loved playing in the dirt and were so unabashed about it. I liked that you didn't care about messing school shirts and rips and what you're parents would think about it. I think that's what drew me also. You made me forget about the rules."_

_Jonas let out a beguiling little chuckle. He took a proud bite of kebab and spoke with a lisp, his mouth around the fork, "See this is what I'm talking about, it's happy coincidence alphabetical order, but it's not what made us friends. Not ultimately. Even if we hadn't been forced together in first grade, we'd have figured all that out on our own."_

"_You're giving our four-year-old selves way to much credit I think."_

"_There's no doubt in my mind dude."_

…

That's the thing about Jonas is, he's never got a doubt. At least not where Isak is concerned.

He was a great partner because he didn't challenge Isak at every turn like Sana did, _albeit teasingly_, in Biology class. He didn't hog the notebook and rewrite every passage Isak wrote like Noora pretended not to be doing in their literature class.

Jonas trusts in their friendship outright. Utterly. Exceptionally. No question. He doesn't coddle Isak and he doesn't expect any more or less of him than what Jonas himself will offer.

Isak thinks that's the whole problem here, because Jonas is like the crown gold standard of best friends. It's like, if they were video game characters, Jonas would be the hero, tearing through zombies left and right, fighting against all odds to rescue Isak. And ja, Isak would undoubtedly do the same for him, but the difference is, Isak's that infuriating scientist character who somehow fucked up an experiment and started the whole apocalypse in the first place.

He doesn't even consider himself on the same plane as Jonas. He almost wishes Jonas felt the same way, because sometimes when he puts too much faith in Isak's ability to not let him down, that's when Isak does screw up and it's a double whammy.

Isak's used to being a disappointment. To his sister for staying when things got bad. To his Mama for leaving when things got worse. To his Papa...for pretty much existing.

Now to Jonas, for being an unreliably sucky best friend.

He knows those weren't Jonas' words, but that doesn't mean it's not true. The indignant look on Jonas' face was telling enough.

That was the worst part of all of this, because he'd never seen Jonas look at him like that—never with anything but an endearing, maybe mildly frustrated at times but 'still love you bro' look that Jonas had perfected since childhood and had reserved only for him.

And that scares him.

He wishes he just stayed at the library and finished the stupid assignment like Jonas had asked him too, but at around 22:30 he's started losing steam. All he wanted was a shower and a bowl of ramen and a couch that didn't reek of all-nighter teenage-spurred hijinks and Jonas had said it was okay—if Isak really was _that_ keen on going home, they could split what remained of the work and finish their respective parts on their own.

They were done all their observations and had already written half the paper by that stage, so Jonas was cool with covering the rest of 'Methods' and Discussions' while Isak would handle the 'Results and Conclusions' sections and bring the log book with him to class the next day—_easy-peasy._

On his way home Isak had stopped by the convenience store to grab some hot sauce (he was pretty sure there was just empty bottle in the fridge waiting to be thrown out, and he needed it for his ramen). It was the green sauce with pepper flakes in it, and the bottle had a sombrero-wearing devil on the label. Once he got back to the flat, his plan had been to get into something cozy and hammer out the rest of his paper on the coffee table in the living room.

The coffee table was a no go.

When Isak walked into the flat about forty minutes after he'd left the library, he'd found the entire living room was commandeered by Even's sketches.

Isak had frozen in their tiny foyer, at home with the unruly shoe rack and their over cluttered coat hook, taking in what he was seeing with utter awe.

There were pages upon pages of astounding and sweeping imagery everywhere. Isak's eyes were uncontrollable. They'd darted between one sketch to the next, overwhelmed.

What he'd seen was a lighthouse overlooking the rippling water of a mossy fjord. There'd been a sketch of a retriever with spotted eyes. It smiled wide off the page with it's tongue droopingly on display. It was just like the one they'd seen at the dog park last Fredag (Even likes to go, just so he can fuss over doggos' he can't have, because '_we can barely take care of ourselves, let alone a puppy Even_'). A caterpillar, with delicate seta. Isak remembers how each stroke appeared like it were in motion, dozens of wispy grey legs crawling across the page. There was an unblinking eye with feathery lashes. That one had reminded Isak of Mama, and while it was brilliant it also made him a little uneasy. Staring into the sketch has been like staring into one of her long drawn escapes into her own head. He'd moved on quickly, only to find more faces—all kinds of faces, warm curves but fiery expressions of people he didn't recognize. But it felt like he was meeting them all right then and there.

The sheer number of sketches should have been fuel for alarm. This sort of excessive behaviour had 'manic episode' written all over it. But Isak found none of the usual tells when he looked at Even. Even's movements weren't juddered and rigid. His eyes weren't dilated and blown wide. He wasn't muttering nonsense under his breath, things like tangled song lyrics or movie referenced only he understood.

He'd been sitting, _for hours probably_, on their itchy grey carpet with his sketches scattered all around him. Did Isak mention, he was shirtless and looking completely filthy? Well he was. They had no air-con in the flat and normally that'd be torture, but that time Isak just admired the beauty that was Even Bech Næsheim and all his sweaty glory. Even's long taut legs were hugged perfectly in a pair of black briefs and tangled beneath him as he worked away. He had soot from the charcoal on his face. He wore Isak's favourite bandana, the tie-dye one that kept the hair out of his eyes and tangled blond locks into a messy crown atop his head.

Even was pushing his tongue into his cheek, drawing a slab of charcoal across the sketchpad in his lap. Blackened fingertips making wavering stroke after wavering stroke. Even aged himself when he focused like that, he squinted a lot and there was this harsh line playing between his brows.

This wasn't manic.

_This was inspiration._

_And it was beautiful._

Isak looked down and noticed the sketch Even was so absorbed with. It was two silhouetted figures sharing a park bench in the gloaming twilight of a half-moon sky. The first boy wore a snapback and the second, a beaten denim jacket. A shadowy plume of smoke filled the air between them.

There was something special, seeing 'them' so clearly through Even's eyes. He didn't romanticize them, didn't make them look prettier or more artsy then he should. This sketch was raw and messy, and full of grizzled lines and white noise. But no stroke was more or less important than the next and and they all worked with purpose, connecting the shadowed figures, _them_, together. In that moment, Isak's heart had fallen into his stomach and everything else seemed to fall to the wayside.

His bag hit the floor with a dull thud. _Forgotten_.

Even startled and looked up. They'd locked eyes and he grinned a patented Even grin, all cheekbones and charm right at Isak. "_You're home._"

_"Ja…"_

"_I can clean up._"

"_Don't you fucking dare._"

Even giggled, cocking one of those blasphemous eyebrows, "_well…come on then._"

…

_So ja_, this is not his fault.

_It's Even's fault._

_Okay. Fine. Whatever!_

It's not Even's fault either. His boyfriend can't help that he's so unintentionally pornographic—the nefarious little brat.

Isak should have finished the lab but he'd just sort of lost himself to a night of tangled limbs and charcoal smears on needy skin and all Even, _everywhere_.

_Oops..._

To be honest, he was still in an embarrassing post-sex haze this morning that he hadn't even remembered school work or noticed that half his stuff had fallen out when his bag fell open last night.

The hot sauce was still there though. Isak had secured it in a little side compartment of his bag and Even noticed it on their tram ride to school. "_You're carrying around you're own hot sauce now?"_

"_Huh what?"_ Isak asked stupefied and blinking out of an indulgent grin. He was coming back to himself, recalling an unbelievable climax moment—_and yes, he's sticking with the lame innuendo_—of last night. Even had him bent him over the coffee table, on top of a messy pile of sketches. He was ruining them, his chest rubbing incessantly over the pages each time Even slammed into him. And at that angle, he'd been looking for any kind of anchor to ground him. That's when his hand fumbled recklessly around a really nice sketch of a peony. Isak had clutched the page like it were a stress ball, effectively and understandably crumpling it into smithereens.

Afterward, he told Even he was really sorry for ruining his artwork, but Even just laughed at him.

...

When Even reached into the side pocket of his bag, he pulled out the bottle. The sombrero-wearing devil was leering back at him. Even cracked a smile and Isak had felt his heart stop for a moment. His lips fell into a distinct 'O' shape and his eyes swelled with realization.

Just like that it all came flooding back in a white-hot cluster bomb of _OH FUCK!_

The hot-sauce. The ramen. The lab. He was supposed to finish the lab!

The tops of his ears were searing. His heart was thudding way to hard in his chest. He fumbled around in his bag, and _OHSHIT!OHSHIT!OHSHIT!_

The notebook wasn't in there! He'd lost their notes and there was no time to get back to the flat _and_ retrieve it _and_ get his shit done _and_ get back before second period.

He was screwed.

He'd screwed Jonas because he was screwing his boyfriend! (Okay that was a poor choice of words, but you get the idea).

"Don't worry baby," Even held his face, trying to calm him down, "Jonas will understand."

…

Jonas did not understand.

Jonas had been undeniably pissed at him.

After class he stood beside Isak at their Chemistry teacher's desk, facing the heat. Jonas' fists were clenched at his sides but aside from that, he'd composed himself pretty damn well under the circumstances.

"_I'm surprised at you boys," _Mrs. Nilsen had said, untowardly crossed with them,_ "this lab was a big measure of your final grade."_

The superhuman friend that he was, Jonas hadn't even thrown Isak under the bus when their teacher confronted them, _"Mrs. Nilsen, we know we messed up. It's just, we forgot the lab was due today…"_

Isak forgot.

Isak was also not going to open his fucking mouth in that moment and make this any worse than it already was. He stood beside Jonas hanging his head, mouth pierced—a coward's move.

"_I expect this kind of lackadaisical behaviour from my first years, but you're second years now and it's completely unacceptable at this point."_

"_Can't we make it up, maybe do some extra credit?"_

"_Extra credit is an opportunity I give to students who show me they're actually making an effort Jonas, I just don't see that as being the case here."_

"_But it was a mistake—"_

_'Isak's mistake!' _he could practically hear Jonas' thoughts screaming.

"_I'm sorry you two, but you'll just have to deal with the consequences of an incomplete. I hate playing the villain here (no because Isak was playing that role just fine, thank you very much), but perhaps take this as a lesson on managing your priorities better."_

"_But—!"_

She waved them off, and that was all she was going to say on that.

…

Isak would never actually tell him this, but when Jonas was angry he walked like an ostrich, curly head bobbing three strides ahead of his own feet.

After Mrs Nilsen had dismissed them, Jonas had stormed off and Isak miserably dragged it up the rear, following him into the courtyard. He wanted Jonas to say something, anything to him. Goddammit the silent treatment felt like a worse punishment than Chinese water torture.

_"Jonas—_

_"Don't—_

_"Can we—_

_"Nai."_

He'd been fruitlessly trying to come up with the right thing to say for the past ten minutes, but Jonas wasn't having any of it. Idiotically Isak had thought maybe he could diffuse the situation by directing the blame elsewhere. They'd find union by chirping on a common enemy. If he had known what would transpire, he would have kept quiet. He would have stopped himself from putting that gross, sweaty hangnail foot in own mouth.

Instead he said,_ "That was bitchy of Mrs. Nilsen, wasn't it?"_

The courtyard was full trees and walled by glass windows that mirrored warped, ugly reflections of them. There were clusters of students everywhere but they were all about to become a heaping audience to their shit show.

Jonas stopped in his tracks, causing Isak to nearly collide with his back. He caught himself in a stumble whilst Jonas turned to face him. His whole face was one giant frown. His lips downturned, his eyes were tapered and his giant eyebrows dipped into the elegant curve above his nose.

_"She was just doing her job Isak! You know, most people manage to handle their responsibilities on a semi-regular basis."_

Isak swallowed, "_Ja-Ja..I know...but I mean, to not even offer us a second chance—"_

"_She's a fucking saint for even letting us hand in what we had. Nai sorry, the work that I had."_

Isak dropped his gaze, contrite and scratching the back of his neck. He'd started to bite his lip, tasting copper.

"_I…I told you what happened._" He was talking to the pavement, because that was easier then looking at Jonas. "_Evan and I—_

_"Got carried away. Ja Isak, ja you told me. Was it really so hard to show some self-restraint this one night when you knew we had a lab due today? Especially since I was the one who wanted to stay at the library and keep working."_ Isak didn't have to look up to know there was an accusing finger being pointed at him. _"You're the one who was so insistent on finishing it at home." _Jonas shook his head and snapped with spite,_ "I should have known this would happen because it always fucking does with you two!"_

Isak was in no position to start being offended, but Jonas' last comment pinched the wrong kind of nerve. His head whipped up, and his eyes met Jonas', his features twisting indignantly.

"_Excuse me_?"

There'd been a hard edge in Isak's voice that Jonas hadn't missed. Isak remembered Jonas' entire mien had assuaged when he'd heard it. It was like he caught himself and needed to recover before his words gained too much steam. His shoulders relaxed, his brows un-crimping but his green eyes anchored on, a steely shade of honesty like he still needed Isak to really understand what he was about to say. Jonas knew he'd just open the floodgates to a very touchy subject for Isak. The pressure of the situation could buckle them both if he wasn't careful. Even was sacred to Isak. The closest thing to any real belief system that Isak had ever had and Jonas understood that importance. If he was going to approach this, he had to do it the right way. He had to balance the raft, because the alternative would be like swallowing salt water and losing his best friend in the depths.

Isak was riled up. There were pinpricks of cold-blooded defensively rising up into goosebumps on his skin. _"You have a problem with Even or something?"_

Jonas swallowed, squashing his own pride so he could speak to Isak reasonably. He had no idea Isak was already well beyond reason.

_"Dude..."_ Jonas began levelling his tone placidly and that irritated Isak even more because he hated how Jonas could be so calm whilst Isak was inwardly flipping his lid. _"I didn't say that—"_

_"What the fuck did you mean by it then!"_

Jonas tightened his jaw, and Isak noticed the twitch at the corner of his lips like he was trying really hard not incur a rise in himself, despite being yelled at by Isak. _"Can we just forget it? You're upset and you're not even hearing me properly right now—"_

_"No you can't do that. You're the one who brought this shit it up. So go ahead Jonas, tell me what's so fucking wrong with my relationship with Even!"_

People were starting to stare. Taking out their phones and recording while whispering things to their friends. _The blatant gawkers._

_"Jesus Isak, that's not what I'm saying!"_ Jonas wasn't yelling, _not like Isak_, but he'd gotten firmly louder while trying not to be drowned out. It was like Jonas was standing on train tracks, waving at a train that was charging full throttle right at him.

Isak not entirely sure if he was the train or conductor in this scenario but he's certain he caused the wreckage.

_"Look, I don't even think you realize you're doing it, but sometimes you and Even just lose perspective when you're together."_

_"What are you even on about?" _Isak spat petulantly, _"I'm not oblivious. I forgot one fucking assignment Jonas! Like really? It's not like this is an ongoing thing—"_

_"I'm not trying to upset you—" _How did this happen? Isak was the one who messed up and Jonas was the one worried about upsetting him. Was Isak just an ego-maniac? Because this was definitely a twisted turn of events.

_"I'm not upset!"_

"..._but I'm not the only one noticing this. Mags and Mahdi—"_

_"You guys are talking behind our backs!"_

"_No dude! I'm right here."_ Jonas said, gesticulated between them, "_Right fucking here with you and you're still not listening._"

_"Explain in a way that makes sense then!_"

Isak was definitely losing his wits about him. But who could blame him? This was entirely news to him. Jonas had always been his biggest support after he came out. He'd stuck by Isak through all the rumours, all the bullshit that came with accepting who he was. When he had to be honest with the guys, Jonas was right there to encourage Isak through it. He'd never once treated Isak any different when it came to Even. He just went along like Isak had told him something as trivial as, "I'm getting a haircut." Not to mention he got on great with Even too. The two boys fell into friendship like they'd known each other their entire lives. Sometimes Isak would even find himself envying the way Jonas and Even could talk for hours over politics and artwork and other things Isak would lose interest in too quickly.

So hearing this from Jonas, the person he least expected to have any problem with his and Even's relationship, was hurting his brain. It was like a crutch—_his crutch—_was being kicked out from under him and he'd fallen face first into pavement.

Jonas rolled his eyes, like he was losing patience with Isak's outbursts,_ "Fine whatever. On Saturday then..."_

_"What about it?"_

_"When you and Even were supposed pre at Mahdi's place with us," _he ran a stressed hand through his curls. _"Even said he'd buy the beer and you guys didn't even show."_

Isak just shook his head, being dismissive _"Every weekend we're pre-ing a Mahdi's place. Snot' like it's all that special. Besides, you couldn't get sloshed for one night. You lived."_

Jonas dropped his chin and groaned, like he hated having to explain himself when Isak should have already clued in. _"That's not the point man, it's the principle. You guys committed and just up and bailed. No call, not even a text. You made us wait around for nothing."_

_"No one asked you to wait!"_

_"A fucking text Isak, is that so hard?"_

It wasn't hard. Isak and Even just didn't want to leave their bed that night. Or their bubble for that matter. They didn't want to let anyone else in either. So they turned their phones off. That's what happened.

_"And last month—"_

_Okay, his palms felt sweaty._

_"Come on—"_

Jonas just pressed on, refusing to back down now. _"Last month, when Magnus asked us to come over to his place and watch John Wick, again you two weren't there."_

"_It was just a movie night!_" Isak defended, "_And it's not like we all hadn't already seen it._"

_"Ja, but Mags wanted us there and he mentioned how important it was."_

Isak scoffed waspishly, "_How fucking important is Keanu Reeves, really?_"

Don't get him wrong, he liked Keanu just fine, same for the John Wick films. Critic Isak would give them a 6/10. But he didn't feel like watching a movie he'd already seen a bunch of times already, when he could've just stayed home with Even. _Just Even _and chosen a film from Even's recommended list of '_movies Isak hasn't seen but we can only watch together_.' That night it was _Mulholland Drive_. David Lynch is a brilliant sadist.

Jonas looked beyond comprehension, "_his mom was coming out of an episode, that's what's so fucking important!_"

_Oh no._

He felt the jab of realization hit him hard—but instead of the wind being knocked out of him, it was entirely just the worst kind of word vomit. "_Nai...Mags...he would have—_" Isak shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. "_I didn't know...why didn't he say something?_"

_"He shouldn't have to say anything Isak. He asked us a favour, so why was there even a question? You know, he was going through hella' shit that night and he needed us to be there for him. All of us. His mom's favourite film is John Wick—_

Isak furrowed his brows with bemusement, unable to help himself, "_His mom's favourite film is John Wick?_"

_"Shut up dude."_

Isak did, because he was a fucking moron.

_"Mags just thought a movie night with the boys would do her some good. But you weren't there and neither was Even. It's because you're not keen Isak."_

Isak must have looked like he was on the verge of tears, he certainly felt like it, because Jonas stepped up to him. He tilted his head, trying to catch Isak's downfallen gaze. "_Is come on.._" When Isak didn't look up, he reached up to squeeze Isak's shoulders,_ "I know you love him and you know I love you both," _Jonas said, his tone softer now,_ "but you've got to learn you two aren't the only two people in this universe. Sometimes there are other people counting on you. I was counting on you today."_

This was the moment where Isak _really_ screwed up, because he knows if he had apologized to Jonas right then and there, Jonas would have forgiven him no question. The lab was never really the issue, because all Jonas wanted was for Isak to understand where he was coming from, to really listen and accept that he needed a little more effort from him.

It wasn't asking to much, for Jonas to want to spend more time with his best friend.

But apparently for Isak, it was.

He wasn't going to deny that he and Even could get carried away in their own little world. Sometimes it felt like the entire celestial firmament revolved purely around them. Like, if it weren't for Isak and Even finding each other, no other version of them could exist in any other universe. They were the first of their kind. Isak was sure of it. He knows it's ridiculous, egoistic even, to believe their love holds that much power, but it doesn't mean it's not real, even if he's the only one believing it.

Even was his real.

And he'd hated the idea that his relationship was causing all these problems that he didn't want to accept. If he said he was sorry then it meant he'd be admitting something was wrong with him and Even, and he wasn't about to do that. It felt like a betrayal, not only to himself but to Even also and to the life he had hoped for since childhood. He felt something barbed and slimy reaching from a seedy place inside him and taking an ugly hold of him. It squeezed out the worst version of Isak. The version that used to grumble too much, that sat bitterly in his bedroom and hated on anyone for being happy because he couldn't.

And now that he was happy, his friends weren't and he resented them—Jonas especially for this. For trying to lift the veil over his eyes.

It was immature, and completely out of line but he'd felt an immediate caveman instinct to protect what was his. He wanted to defend Even at all costs, because Even was his favourite…_everything_, and that meant he was off limits to any scrutiny by anyone.

Even Jonas.

He was tethered by his anger, losing lucidity. It was cutting circulation to his brain, suffocating his rational. There was only an embolism blocking any and all sense and he let go the only way he knew how—_by projecting._

Isak looked up and scowled and made a quick jerk of his shoulders like Jonas' touch was poisonous.

Jonas' features twisted in confusion, "_Dude?_"

Isak stared back, cold as a glacier. "_Look, I'm sorry about that night with Mags. That was shitty. But I'm not going to apologize for loving my boyfriend too much!_"

Jonas shook his head, "_Isak I wasn't asking you too—_"

"_And I don't know, maybe if you'd paid more attention to your own damn relationship and less time with the boys, like you're getting mad at me for doing now, then you'd have had a better chance at not fucking things up with Eva!_"

This had to be invasion of the body snatchers because the real Isak would never have said something so completely lowdown to Jonas.

He took mental inventory. His hands. His feet. His head, shoulders, knees and toes. And his own guilty lips, definitely spouting viciousness.

Isak blanched the moment the words left him. He'd said the worst thing imaginable to someone he loved beyond measure.

Jonas stepped back, stricken. His eyes were suddenly shiny. Flooding with a vulnerability not normally disposed of him. He winced like Isak had struck him.

How could Isak do that? Stepping out of line, attacking Jonas where he knew it would hurt most.

He'd used Eva against him.

The same Eva who broke Jonas' heart. The same Eva that no girl Jonas has dated since has been able to hold a candle too. The same Eva, Jonas was still undeniably—no matter how much he kept denying it—in love with. And even knowing all that, Isak went there anyway. What a fucking piss poor way to treat his best friend.

"_Jonas..._" Isak croaked, sounding emaciated.

The guilt sent blood rushing to his brain. Isak's heart beat swiftly, heavy pounding war drums inside his chest. Tears filled his eyes and he reached out for Jonas but Jonas just stepped back again, shaking his head. The sunlight caught his curls making him look like he was glowing. He narrowed his eyes, his nose flaring. An incandescent anger and said, "I had help with that one, didn't I?"

Isak hitched in a breath and choked on it, a pathetic, desperate sound escaping him.

It was no secret Isak played a major role in Jonas' and Eva's breakup last year. After he'd made things right with Eva at Christmas, he'd thought it was only fitting to do the same thing with Jonas. The two ended up having a long, awkward conversation about it whilst smoking a particular potent blunt on Isak's balcony. By the end of it, Jonas was assuring Isak _(as he always does) _that there was nothing to forgive.

"_Everyone does stupid shit when they're in love Is."_

_"I wasn't in love with you."_

_"Infatuation then?"_

_"More like infuriation."_

_"Because I'm so sexy, you mean."_

_"Oh my God, why did I think telling you this was a good idea?"_

_"Because we tell each other everything. I'm not afraid to be honest with you man, even when it gets heavy."_

_..._

This was heavy. A crippling, weight of the world on his shoulders kind of heavy.

Jonas squeezed the strap on his shoulder, jerking his bag roughly, like he needed to direct his physical anger anywhere besides the boy before him. "_I'm fucking done_," he sneered in a way that made Isak flinch. He turned then, to walk away. Leaving Isak standing alone with prying eyes that seared him everywhere.

Isak remembers in that moment, wishing for an earthquake or lightening bolt or _anything_, to strike the earth where he was standing and open a giant hole to swallow him up entirely.

…

Isak thinks his Biology teacher, Miss Hagen, is a witch—incidentally the kind that specializes in nipple hypnosis. Ja, that's a thing. Isak is sure of it, because once again he can't stop staring.

She's in a yellow t-shirt today, no bra of course. Areolas up for show. He's trying to determine if they're pink or brown. Is that creepy if he's gay? It's probably still creepy. But he can't help that they're just right there in his face. Where else is he supposed to look? Besides he does this sometimes, ends up focusing on the weirdest stuff when he's trying to turn his brain off.

Back in Kollective, he used to do it too. When he was trying not to think about being gay, or not being gay he'd zero in on what his old roommates were doing.

He noticed things like that one huge, concealer covered zit on Noora's chin that she kept on scratching.

Or the way Eskild had a tick. He'd flick his head to the right shoulder after every third sentence, like he was flipping long hair he didn't actually have.

Or how he'd watch Lynn do the same thing he was doing, but better—just stare off into space. And he'd count how many seconds it took her to blink.

And eventually she did blink, because Eskild would undoubtedly say something to make her laugh. Then Noora would sit on the floor so Eskild could play with her hair, because he needed that as much as she needed to stop worrying about her current facial crisis.

"_Come baby gay_," Eskild would call out to him, patting the seat beside him on the couch and waggling a lock of Noora's hair toward him, _"I need your help. Hold this strand for me, will you?"_

That was the best distraction of them all. Just sitting with his roommates, talking about absolutely nothing and doing weird shit like braiding each other's hair. It's funny how far he's come, because a year ago he'd chop of the hands of anyone who so much as came near his head with a fine toothed comb. Now, he could think of nothing he wanted more than to have Eskild's slender fingers get right up in there and work his magic.

_He misses Kollective._

_"_You okay?"

Isak blinks out of it and turns to face Sana. She's smirking at him with glossy lips, like he's a weirdo, and granted, he kind of his. He was just thinking about areolas and French braids in Biology class.

"M'fine," he whispers to her far to quickly. His face tells all, eyes too wide and looking guilty like he's just been caught in a lie. Sana stares at him for a moment, pinches her lips and nods. Isak watches her dip her head back toward the white board at the front of the class. He can feel her giving him a shrewd little side eye. Sana's not one to pull teeth just to force someone else talk to her about _their_ issues. She just sort of, waits until your ready. Or until the invisible pressure she somehow exerts with her mere presence compels you to spill your guts worse than any slasher film.

"Am I a bad friend?" he blurts out before he's even realizing it. _Jesus, how does she do that?_

He goes back to staring at Miss. Hagen's tits because he's afraid to see the honest answer in Sana's eyes. Though he's watching her in his peripherals. She's waiting on him. He doesn't have to turn to know she's just rolled her eyes at him.

"Are we going to talk like adults?"

"I'm not an adult, I'm seventeen."

"Isak I'm not doing this if you're not going to look at me."

He takes a deep breath and shifts his gaze to face her. She's squinting at him with an inquisitive look, but that's about all. No harsh cynicisms, no damning eyes. Isak relaxes.

"Did Jonas say that to you?"

Sana sounds clipped, protective, like she's getting ready to slap a _bish_ for potentially hurting his feelings.

He really likes Sana. It makes his heart warm, knowing that she cares enough to do that for him, even when it's completely unnecessary.

"Nai, nai," Isak sets her right, "He would never."

"So what's this about?"

"We're not exactly on speaking terms right now."

"The fight," Sana nods, "I heard."

Of course she did. The entire school heard. He wouldn't be surprised if there were astronauts in space who heard too.

"I said something really shitty to him."

"So apologize."

"It's not that simple."

"What is this, _The Notebook_? You're spending to much time with Even."

It's just a joke but Isak stiffens. Sana's smile falters, taking notice, "What is it?"

Isak scratches at a mole on his arm. He's afraid to get this out, "If I apologize, I'm like...admitting he's right." Isak sighs, "and what if I don't want him to be right?"

"Is he?"

"What?"

"Right?"

Isak pinches the bridge of his nose, "Maybe? _Fuck_, I don't know."

"Okay, let me put it this way. Is he wrong?"

"Nai. Not wrong."

"So 'right or not wrong,' either way you frame it Isak, why's it so hard to say this to Jonas?"

"That's just not me," Isak rubs his temples, "I'm not capable." _Not when it goes against Even. Not against what he knows in his heart._

Sana frowns, her dimples deepening, "That's a lame excuse."

Isak scoffs, because she doesn't understand. Sana's not in love; he's never even seen her show an interest in anyone at their school. She doesn't know what it's like to have to be vulnerable with your heart, to put something, _someone_ you love on roast and realize it may not be as perfect as you thought. She doesn't know what it's like to be judged by her friends and to have them turn against you when you thought they had your back. He hopes she never does have to deal with any of that shit, because he doubts she could handle it any better than he is.

"You know what, just fucking forget it."

Sana is beyond irritated with him. She straightens in her chair, crossing her arms like she means business. "You're angry with Jonas, for what, for being honest with you? For not being a total bitch and actually telling _you_ he has a problem, rather than telling the entire stupid world over Instagram or chat or whatever." Sana shakes her head at him, "I know I don't know him as well as you do. Jonas and Eva, they were kind of already on the outs by the time I came around, but he seems like a good guy—a friend whose just trying to look out for you. Those kinds of friends don't come around very often Isak. It's taken me practically my whole life to find the girls." She pauses and starts doodling in her notebook. Offhandedly she says, "And you I guess…"

Isak blushes at that, "Uhh, you too Sana—"

"Shut up Isak, don't get sappy with me."

Sana's drawing a flower with no pedals. It looks lonely.

"Anger is a dangerous thing Isak," She's still drawing, starting to shade in the flower. Her pen is bending at the tip. "It brings out the worst in us."

Isak stays quiet watching her. She's scratching into the page, practically scraping at the desk underneath. The pair sitting in front of them glances at them and Isak offers and embarrassed little wave. The flower keeps getting darker and darker.

"Sana—

Sana jabs the page, making Isak and about everyone else in the class startle. Miss Hagen turns on them from across the room, "Sana, Isak is everything all right?"

Sana beams at her, a closed mouth, mocking smile. "Mmmhmm."

Isak stares between them. "Just fine."

The class gets back to it and Sana is back on him, "A flower's not so pretty without it's pedals." She rips the page from her notebook and pushes it into his hands, "Be a bigger man Isak. Be bigger than yourself."

When he looks at the drawing, it's just a bunch of black scribbles.

...

School is finally over and Isak is knackered. He’s at his locker, thankfully packing it in for the day and unloading his bag, when he hears a slick little giggle. It’s unctuous, the kind that’d leave a grease stain on his skin if that were possible—echoing down the hall. He looks up and distinguishes the source as two first-year dancer girls. They’re standing a few lockers over and their whispering to each other and staring right at him.

There’s nothing all that special about them. They’re both blonde, blue eyed and wear entirely too much makeup—kind of like a decadent wedding cake. They could almost pass for the same person.

It’s not really their fault though, because that’s just sort of the _appearance_ around Oslo.

He supposes he and Even have the same effect on people. To a stranger, they may even look like siblings.

_Okay,_ _ewww_ _in no way was that train of thought okay. _

Isak mentally squeegees his brain clean and even thinks about downing some bleach just to be safe. Though the ‘twins that are definitely not twins,' are still ogling at him and maybe that’s punishment enough. They're talking with their heads close. One of them is cupping a hand over her mouth and saying something in the other girl’s ear. They go right back to giggling. Not trying to be subtle about it.

Seriously, the girls in his school must be in some clandestine succubus’ club because their leers and hushed whispers are feeding off what little patience and energy Isak has left. He’s so over being a topic of discussion, but really he’s no choice in the matter, _does he_? This is just how things work in high school. There’s always some poor fool who’s at the center of a new rumour, and it’s never more than likely the rumour burns out before the individual does.

He’s about there.

It’s been a soul sucking kind of afternoon and he’s hobbled his way through most of his classes, because that’s what you do when you’ve become a lifeless zombie—_you hobble_. Now all he wants to do is to get home, collapse into his bed and have Even make him a cardamom cheese toasty.

It’s no help that the Hartvig Nissen School is the worst kind of inexorable, rumour-breeding cesspool and Isak keeps getting pulled into its torrent time and again. Seriously, his fight with Jonas is being blown way out of proportion. It’s literally been all anyone could talk about and never mind what _actually_ happened, because the students are happily spinning their own narrative. It’s like Frankenstein’s monster—a mutation of the worst kind, just taking on a life of its own.

And according to the gossipmongers: _'Jonas is tired of being Isak's side piece and he demands Isak make his choice between him and Evan once and for all!_’

How do people even have the balls (_or lack thereof_) to be spouting this kind of shit?

Isak considers flipping the girls off—_why not_ _give them something to really talk about? _— but ultimately decides against it. It won’t make a difference anyway. They’re going to believe what they want to believe until a new rumour comes along to lay waste to the old one. It’s like smoke being blown in one ear and out the other and he’s no desire to fan the flame.

Jonas may _walk _like an ostrich when he’s angry, but Isak much prefers to _hide_ like one.

He buries his face into his locker and just sort of stays there. He wishes he could scream into it but settles with taking deep breaths. He feels 7, using the locker like he would a paper bag if he were having a panic attack.

In those days it wasn’t so hard to trigger him. That’s why Jonas used pocket the paper bags from his packed lunches, just in case Isak ever needed them. Isak’s own lunches were always perfectly sorted in plastic Tupperware containers. Grapes to the left, carrots to the right and a PB& J sandwich cut diagonally into two halves with no crusts in the big compartment in the middle.

Not a paper bag in sight; his mother didn’t consider them environmentally sustainable, even if they were completely Isak-sustainable.

It made Isak appreciate Jonas all the more, for having his back.

“_Try this_,” Jonas said, the first time he’d experienced an attack.

It was recess and they were playing football against some year up kids, including a particularly nasty little brat named Arvid Olsen. Olsen was a hefty and dangerously competitive kid whom hated being shown up by anyone younger than him, something Isak nor Jonas had any idea about before they joined the game. The sore loser that he was, Olsen sourly scooped up the ball and with as much brute force a monstrous eight-year-old could muster, whipped it right as Isak’s face when Isak scored against him. Isak remembers the blood, _a lot of blood,_ and how it tasted coppery and trickled from his nose like a leaky tap.

Olsen’s laughter chased Isak into the bathroom, along with Jonas—but only after he’d kicked Olsen right and well in his stupid chubby shin for being a total dick head. If Isak had stuck around long enough, he’d have heard Olsen’s laughter transform into crocodile tears for their teacher. Landing Jonas a week’s worth of afternoon detention.

“_It was worth it_,” Jonas told him from inside the detention room a day later. Isak was supposed to be out on the playground with the other kids, instead he’d spent everyday of Jonas’ punishment, sitting against a brick wall and talking to Jonas through an open window, “_No one’s gonna’ touch you while I’m around Is_.”

…

In the change room, Isak stood before a mirror. There was a dreadful looking bruise blossoming under his left eye. His face was smeared in dried blood and his heart was thrashing in his chest. He replayed the entire foul played incident in his mind, like a record player on repeat. The way Olsen had swelled with pride and how the other kids had laughed with him. He felt a stifling, overwhelming embarrassment coursing through his nerves, and he couldn’t seem to catch a steady breath.

If Jonas was scared, he certainly didn’t look it. He took action, fumbling through his bag and pulling out a paper bag that smelled like mayonnaise and ham. He held it out to Isak and Isak stared back with tears in his eyes, nonplussed because, _why was Jonas handing him a crumpled piece of garbage_?

“_I saw it on TV once_,” Jonas explained, “_you breath into it. Like this see_?” He un-crumpled the bag, pressing the opening to his lips and taking a few puffs. Jonas hadn’t grown into his eyebrows yet, and they rose encouragingly to cover practically his whole forehead when he tried for a smile. Like always, Isak trusted in that smile completely. _“I promise it’ll help.”_

Isak took the bag, and tried a few breaths the way Jonas had shown him. It did help.

_Unbelievably it helped_; and he should have known it would because Jonas never broke a promise.

…

His attacks aren’t so bad anymore. The last time he came close to anything similar was last semester when he caught Even kissing Sonya at Emma’s party. Though it never reached the same level as when he was a kid.

Thankfully, he has less insecurity to trigger him these days. Isak doesn’t walk around with his head downcast. He’s no reason to hide like he used to, always afraid of being set off or exposed.

Today feels like an exception to the rule, like maybe he’s due for a relapse. It makes him tighten his grip on the locker door. When he presses his palms into the metal, Isak can feel the pillow of muscle between his thumb and forefinger getting sore. He’s not trying to hurt himself, but the pain feels like an unhealthy distraction, staving off an onset.

Honestly, he just wishes Jonas were here because he’s never been one to shake a habit so easily. Even now despite being grown and Isak’s panic attacks being so infrequent, he still thinks if he texted Jonas, _even after everything_ that’s happened today, he’d still be at Isak’s locker in an instant with a paper bag at the ready.

_The perfect jerk. _

"Halla baby."

_At least he has Even. _

“I hate chemistry,” Isak groans, face-deep into his locker. It’s barely a whisper but his voice resonates in the hollow metal space nonetheless.

“Fuck chemistry,” Even says sympathetically, “It’s a cruel an unusual punishment and no student should ever be subjected. Shall we stage a revolt?”

“Yes, but that won’t help.”

“I know. Can I see you?”

There’s a timbre in Even’s voice, that’s silky like dandelion seeds and tickles the back of Isak’s neck, urging him to turn around.

Isak draws in a breath, trying to gather himself, at least for his boyfriend’s sake. He closes his locker and turns to face Even, leaning his back against the locker door. But his backpack is still on so he’s kind of like a flipped turtle—a little back and forth.

"Halla,” he says, sounding jaded, but his bad mood dies in one breath, because Even is here. Here with him_ finally_. And he knows its stupid and a little pathetic to be so utterly relieved when they’ve barely been apart a full day. But Even’s doing that thing he does, where he quirks his head to the side and just kind of watches Isak—_loves him with his eyes_—and Isak thinks he’d happily stay stuck under this boy's thumb. He forgets the rest of the day, or maybe the day forgets him because everything around them fizzles into static.

Even holds his backpack over one shoulder like a studious and sexy GQ model, but he slides it off his sinewy arm and onto the linoleum so he can reach out for Isak. It's an open invitation and Isak wastes not time accepting. He crawls into Even's embrace and buries himself into his chest. It’s delightful. He and Even don't have the same lunch period and Isak’s been waiting all afternoon for this. When he presses his face into Even’s shirt, he can smell their hibiscus detergent.

…

Being _without_ Even is like being caught in a rainstorm. It’s grey clouds and unflinching thunder. It’s that icky feeling of wet socks in your boots, and having to hug yourself through the worst of it.

But being _with _Even is like finding a break in the clouds. It’s misty skies and raindrops catching sunlight. It’s the smell of wet pavement and butterfly kisses under cover of trees. It’s willingly being drenched in something and losing yourself in it completely.

….

"I should have been there," Even whispers into his hair and kisses the top of Isak’s head.

Isak smushes his face into Even's chest some more, "Trust me, I'm glad you weren't. It got ugly real fast."

"Have you texted Jonas since?"

"Absolutt ikke.”

"Issy—

"Nai.” Isak shakes his head, “Just hold me, okay?"

Even does.

“I’m sorry,” Even says, breaking the comfort of their shared silence, “I know this is my fault too.”

Isak wrinkles his nose and rears back so he can look at Even properly. He’d rather not step out of their content little bubble, but Even sounds upset, and it’s hard to let that carry on.

"Don't say that.” Isak tries, throwing the weight of his reassurance at Even, “You had no clue I didn't finish my lab."

Even drops his chin and presses it into his neck. He has a cute little double chin as he meets Isak’s gaze. "Maybe not, but if I took the moment to at least ask how your day was instead of just—"

"—Senselessly fucking me on the washing machine at 'MAX SPIN CYCLE'?"

A flush stretches up Even’s long neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. It's the best kind of sight for sore eyes.

"Ja, that. Like so much of that." He waggles his eyebrows at Isak, making him giggle, "That was brilliant by the way."

"We're doing it again. Maybe even on 'HEAVY DUTY' next time, hmm?"

"You're a madman Valtersen.” Even teases, but the words sound hollow, missing their usual raffish air. He cups Isak's face in his hands and tries to be stern with him. It’s a state that’s practically impossible for them to be with each other, but Even’s doing his best, "Seriously though, we live together now and I think that means we have responsibility to each other that we can't be reckless with it. I should always have your best interest in mind."

"Last night you had plenty of my best interests in mind, and in mouth and in—

Even huffs, giving Isak a little shake, "you know what I mean."

"What are you saying, no sex till I finish my homework? That’s a bit extreme isn't it?"

"If I have to get a chastity belt, I will."

"And I'll damn well break that shit open Even. Don't you dare try to get between me and your dick."

"_Oh,_ with what tools then? I don't suppose the hammer you stole off your dad is going to cut it."

"If I have to go to a hardware store and buy myself some manly man tools for this one purpose, I will."

Even chuckles tensely and the tiny hitches putter into a sigh. He’s staring past Isak, _maybe at a tile on the ground_, with hooded eyes that are remarkably deep—a cavernous well of emotions.

Isak doesn’t like this.

It’s the same look Even adopts when he’s feeling insecure about something. Isak’s seen it one too many times, especially when Isak was still adjusting to the revelation of Even’s bipolar disorder. That was an especially difficult time for them. Even used to find any reason he could to challenge Isak’s love for him.

“_I’ll just hurt you.”_

_“I’ll mess up one too many times.”_

_“I’ll say something I can’t take back.”_

_“I’ll put too much sour cream in the eggs and that’s going to be your last straw. You’re going to leave me for a vegan!” _

_Okay,_ that time he was joking, _but still_.

Isak reaches up to grab his wrist, giving it a little squeeze. Even’s thin skinned; Isak can feel the tendons and veins holding him together. “Hey,” he says gently, “talk to me.”

Even is diffident.

"I just don't want _this_ being the reason you're life gets all screwed up.” He looks Isak in his eyes with a gaze that is earnest and foggy—like blueberry tea in his favourite porcelain mug. "Like, _us __being_the reason you and Jonas had a fight today. We shouldn't be letting our relationship come between us and the people we love."

Isak covers Even’s hand with his own. He curls their fingers together and touches Even’s palm to his lips. He kisses his fingers, _one, two, three_ times and says, "You're the people I love."

Even runs his thumb gently over Isak’s bottom lip, "this is what I mean though…” and then he’s crossing his arms, holding his elbows. Even might be the older one, but in that moment he looks so sad and boyish. "It shouldn't be that way Issy. I shouldn't be the only important thing in your life."

Isak twiddles a finger over Even’s stomach, wanting him to come back—weak for his touch. Even makes him weak. "I didn't say that.”

"But can you agree, we fucked up last night? That we’ve been fucking up a lot lately."

Isak shakes his head, desperate, "Nai, I fucked up! Not us. Not you."

He’s needs this discussion to end. It’s one thing to hear this coming from Jonas over raised voices and bitterly accusing words. But it’s another story to have his boyfriend affirming his worst fears, that his and Even's relationship wasn’t entirely healthy. Maybe they’d spent all this time being so co-dependent with each other that they'd also stopped noticing the people on the outside, depending on them also.

The veil kept on thinning and Isak wasn’t like it one bit. Maybe Even was willing to admit something needed changing, but Isak’s nowhere near ready to accept that.

He rears up, balancing on his tiptoes to catch Even's frown with a kiss and shut him up.

He’s never claimed to be the mature one in their relationship.

They flush against each other, chest on chest, hips fighting for ascendance and Even's hands helplessly come up to cup Isak's neck. He rakes his thumbs over the rigid curve of Isak’s jaw and press gingerly into that sensitive hotspot at his pulse point.

Isak breathes into Even's mouth and selfishly asks him, "Can we please just press pause on this for now?"

"But baby…” Even says, sounding hot and flustered against his lips, “we have to talk about this—

"I know. I know we do. Just not right now. Not this minute. I want to go home. I want to be with you—” Isak shoves his lips into Even’s again. Even shoves right back. It’s a teeth-clattering kiss that’s messy and bruising. When they come apart, they’re both a little winded. Isak presses his forehead into Even’s and screws his eyes shut, feeling exhausted and guilty, “I know that's the whole fucking problem apparently but I just…” He swallows a lump and whispers the next part, “please just take me home Even."

Even plays with the tuffs of hair at the back of Isak’s neck, knowing how much that soothes him. "Okay," he agrees, and Isak is so thankful for that. He inhales, and kisses Isak’s nose softly, "Not this minute, but another one soon?"

Isak nods reluctantly, "That's chill."

They don't leave right away. Instead, they stay standing in the hallway, leaning into each other for what feels like an infinite amount of time.

Though even infinity is forced to come to a clamouring halt for Emma Larsen.

"Hi Isak!" Emma sparks, startling them apart in true Emma form. Her eyes are rather open, and her grin is ear-to-ear and rosy—just way too cheerful, always.

Isak sighs and rolls his eyes, but not meanly. He forces himself to smile, because despite their history he still has a soft spot for the first-year girl who he sort-of-kind-of dated a few months back. Honestly, he’s surprised Emma is still so willing to speak to him, especially after all the shit he pulled on her last semester. For the most part though, it seems like she's put the past behind her despite Isak still feeling guilty about it.

"Halla Emma," Isak greets back, trying to muster even a quarter of her energy. He makes a move to lean against his locker but feels Even’s palm slide around to his waist, tugging Isak back against his hip. Keeping them together.

Isak smirks knowingly and decides to settle in; Even won’t be separating them anytime soon.

It's funny how Even’s still kind of possessive of Isak around Emma. Not in an annoying way, it’s just that Emma makes him edgy. Obviously he knows better than to think Isak has any feelings for her beyond a tender fondness. But maybe it’s the fact that Isak came so close to being Emma's instead of his (_even if it was just for show_) that drives Even a little mad.

Isak guesses the feeling is mutual on Emma's end, because whenever she approaches Isak while Even’s around, she'll barely acknowledge his presence beyond a cursory nod and some choice words.

He thinks Emma probably doesn't like losing as much as Even doesn't like the idea of it.

Not that it was ever a competition. In every universe, there’s no doubt in Isak’s mind, that Even’s always the one he chooses. He’s just that luminous, like a fierce supernova that blinds Isak to anyone else.

Emma is just…_Emma_.

When he says that, he’s _really _not trying to be rude or anything. He thinks Emma’s a perfectly awesome girl, but even if he weren’t 100 percent gay for an adorable giraffe boy, she’d still not be his type. Emma’s sort of high maintenance, and her passion for just about _everything_ throws Isak for a loop half the time. How’s a cranky guy like him supposed to keep up with someone so exhaustingly high on life? Dating Emma for those few weeks was a full-blown mental endurance check and Isak hates working out.

Running and biking’s sometimes fun, and maybe skating, if Jonas is there to teach him how it’s done, but that’s about it.

To be perfectly honest, he only singled Emma out from the other first-year girls because she had short hair and that was the closest thing to a boyish that Isak could find in a girl at their school. _Damn, he was such a dick back then_. He’s glad it turned out for the best, because he’d hate if Emma weren’t in his life now. She’s sweet, and bubbly and entirely too good a person to be Isak's friend.

But maybe that just comes with the territory. Apparently, being friends with Isak Valtersen guarantees you’re sure to be fucked over in one or another.

“Good to see you Emma,” Even offers amiably. Isak feels Even lean into his side a little too much. Isak has to subtly hip check him, so Even’s skinny hip doesn’t topple them both into the lockers. Even doesn’t dare miss a beat though. He just coolly rights himself, and plasters on a phony smile that’s purely for Isak's sake, "How’s life?"

Emma’s expression drops to an embittered frown, "I’m just fine, Endre."

Isak chews his bottom lip, biting back a grin, because _come on_; he has to give it to Emma for her gull. Back when Isak was hosting the rave party for Kosegruppa, Emma had drunkenly, _and at the time_, innocently called Even "Endre" by mistake. Though she’s never actually corrected herself on the slip up, and it’s been like _what?_ Three months since then.

Her sassiness is kind of hilarious and totally gets under Even's skin. Isak pinches his side, both in solidarity and to maybe poke a sleeping bear.

The muscles in Even’s jaw tense but he’s careful not to let his smile falter. He keeps trying to be cordial, despite Emma being the literal bane of his existence "That’s cool. What can we help you with—?”

Emma doesn’t let Even finish. Instead her attention snaps back to Isak and she exclaims, “I heard what happened after second period!” Her eyes widen three sizes, (_if that’s even possible_) and her expression tempers. She reminds Isak of a raging Disney princess. Not like Cinderella or Snow White, but one of those feminist princesses. The kinds that can sing and dance along with the best of them, but can also wield a sword. “I’m so sorry Isak!”

Isak sighs. He really thought he was done dealing with this Jonas thing for today.

“You don’t have to be sorry Emma. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong.”

He’s never understood why people apologize when they’re not even to blame for something. Like at a funeral, “I’m so sorry about [insert dead guys name here]. It’s not like it’s the person’s fault they died, and saying so won’t bring someone back. Besides, do people really have the right to be saying sorry on behalf of an unfair universe? Probably not. It all just seems kind of pointless in Isak’s opinion, but then again he’s kind of a pessimist. Anyway, Emma is still staring at him.

“Well nai…”

Emma crinkles her nose, like she was expecting another reaction. Maybe she wanted Isak to start crying on her shoulder or at the very least express some appreciation for her concern.

He doesn’t really know, or try to offer.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. After all, _everyone_ knows what happened. I think there's even a few videos posted on Youtube."

Isak’s ears are burning, “Fuck really?”

Emma nods and leans into him reticently. "So…” she whispers, acting like it’s just the two of them now, when Even’s still right there and can clearly hear her, “you and Jonas huh?"

Emma’s an innate insinuator.

He hears Even snort beside him and when he glances over, he catches him staring at the ceiling, looking like he’s trying really hard to not say something.

Emma doesn’t notice, or pretends not too. She tugs Isak’s sleeve to get his attention, “I only ask because people are saying they’ve seen you two hooking up.” There’s a sly, tizzy in her voice.

"No Emma, just entirely no." His throat feels dry, like he’s talking through sandpaper. "And people like who?"

"Well Marit told Mona…”

Isak just squints at her, because he knows none of those girls.

“…Who told me, that Jonas is upset over—” she pauses and gestures to Even with her eyes before darting back to him, “and that's what the fight was about."

Isak's head is swimming. He pinches the bridge of his nose, a headache flooding between his eyes. “This is unbelievable.”

He feels Even rub his arm, his human de-stressor. “Emma,” Even says firmly, “Isak clearly doesn’t want to keep discussing this.” He leaves out the “_so bugger off_,” part but the implication is pretty clear in his tone.

Emma narrows her eyes at him, "Isak is perfectly capable of speaking for himself _Endre_."

Even's stops trying with her. His pleasant demeanour plunges like a brick and his lips settle into a straight line. He and Emma are in a literal glare down. Isak looks between them and he’s a little creeped out. Isak’s not used to seeing them with anything but smiles on their face for very long. It looks wrong and he figures he should rein this in before the situation escalates. His own drama is about all he can handle today.

"Even's right Emma.” Of course he’s always going to be on Even’s side, “I’m over discussing this, and whatever you may have heard, it’s all bullshit anyway."

"Really? So no Josak then?"

Isak chokes on his spit, "I'm sorry what?"

"It's like a ship name. It's what the dancer girls are calling you around school. It's like Evak vs. Josak the ultimate show down."

_These damn basic bitches! _Seriously, when did his life become so interesting that’s it's spawning fanfiction fuel for the girls in his school? It’s absurd he actually has to defend his relationship against such egregious lies.

"Well you can tell Marry—

“Marit actually. Or were you referring to Mona?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter Emma!” Emma looks taken back and Isak bites his cheek, softening his tone, because it’s not like this is her fault. “Look, just tell whoever you want that I love Even and I'd never do that to him. Or to Jonas for that matter."

Emma frowns, deflated. Apparently she was hoping for some more juicy tidbits. “I can do that, I guess.” She reaches toward him and Even’s gaze follows her the whole way. He watches her squeeze Isak’s arm, sighing through his nostrils and piercing his lips to compose himself.

“If anyone asks, I’ll set them right.”

"I'd appreciate that, thanks,” Isak says, and because he’d like to give Emma the benefit of the doubt and hope she didn’t just approach him to appease her friends, he asks, “is there something else you wanted?"

Emma blinks like she's just remembered something. She's beaming again. Forget Disney princess. Emma is like a_ less_ vengeful Arya Stark with all her many faces. She just keeps changing expressions left and right. She’s back to grinning wide with red lips and perfect teeth. It’s the kind of smile you’d see in toothpaste adverts, that chimes when her teeth catch light. She's practically blinding Isak with her utter happy.

"Right!" She belabours, "My brother invited me and some friends to a UiO party tonight. I was hoping you and the boys might be keen on joining us?"

"A University party?

Emma nods.

Isak could dig that. A University party means he’ll be virtually unrecognizable to anyone there.

A.K.A—no high school drama.

Sure, Emma's friends will be there, but he figures in massive house with a bunch of soused partiers it'd be easy enough to avoid the flock and just sort of escape into the background with the squad. He wouldn't call himself a wallflower per se, but he admires their style. He needs to blow off some steam tonight and honestly, finding a good, comforting corner at the party in which to pass a blunt between the boys and become a living art fixture sounds pretty damn appealing.

It’ll be the prequel to Even’s film about him,_ The Boy Who Gave Exactly Zero Fucks._

"Ja, okay that sounds fun. Text me the details then?"

Emma's eyes widen dubiously, like she wasn't expecting Isak to _actually_ say yes.

She claps her hands excitedly, "Of course I will!" and then she’s lunging at him, clumsily dislodging him from Even's hip, much to Even's irritation. Isak chokes out a chuckle, his arms plastered to his sides while Emma squeezes the life out of him with more strength a girl her size should ever be capable of. She waggles them around a bit, doing a little happy dance before finally letting him go. Isak feels pinpricks of blood rushing back to his limbs.

“You should quit PR group and join the wrestling team.”

Emma flies past his comment, too preoccupied with her party plans, “Should we pre together also?"

She so hopeful and he feels a little bad for having to disappoint but he needs to draw the line somewhere. “We’re probably going to take our time tonight. It makes more sense for us to just meet you there, Em."

Emma looks thwarted, but she seems to know when to pick her battles because she doesn’t press. Probably just satisfied Isak even agreed to attend the party at all.

“Sure thing. Well, see you boys tonight." She tugs Isak into another hug, one that’s not so bone crushing. She moves her mouth close to his ear and whispers (_again loud enough for Even to hear_) "For the record I was team Jonas. He’s really sweet Isak."

She pulls back and there’s a giddiness in her eyes that sort of throws him. Isak furrows his brows, perplexed. Sure Isak knows how ‘_sweet_’ Jonas is, but how does Emma know? They don’t even talk. _Wait_, do they talk? How did he miss this? He notices the blush on Emma’s cheeks, and _WTF?_

He makes mental note to ask Jonas about this later. _IF they ever speak again. _

_…_

Emma waves him goodbye and flounces off with a happy pixy skip.

They watch her go.

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” Even says, smirking beside him and sounding much too smug about it, “granted, I did steal her boyfriend.”

Isak rolls his eyes, “I was never Emma’s boyfriend.” He leans back against his locker and stares tenderly up at Even. He can’t help reaching between them to hassle his fingers through Even’s lazy curls. “You know I was always yours, right?” he asks, tucking one of the loose strands behind Even’s ear and stroking his cheek with his thumb.

Even leans into his touch, lighting up with a crinkly-eyed smile, “More like we’re each others.”

Isak pushes off his locker and kisses him softly. “Come on," he tells Even, “let’s go home.”

They do.

Back at the flat is where Even makes him a cheese toasty. The best damn cheese toasty Isak’s ever eaten.

_Well_, perhaps it’s not better than the first one they shared at Even’s parents’ place, but it comes in close second.

It’s where they lay in bed and take a nap together.

Even falls asleep right away, resting on Isak’s chest. Isak doesn’t fall asleep at all.

Every time he closes his eyes, he thinks of Jonas.

He slips out from beneath Even, being extra thoughtful not to stir him. Thankfully, Even keeps snoring, drooling a little on the pillow Isak slips under his head. Quietly, carefully Isak tiptoes across the room to their linen closet. He opens the door, and settles himself on the floor. He pulls out his phone, and scrolls through Jonas’ Instagram page till he finds the photo he’s looking for.

Isak starts crying.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have time, please do leave a comment or kudos! I'd appreciate it so much and it helps me improve my writing. Also, don't forget, PROMPTS! PROMPTS! PROMPTS! If you want to see more from these boys. 
> 
> Thank you so much for any support guys and I can't wait to see you for the next chapter. <3


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